To Days Gone By
by Cynamin
Summary: Co-written by NutMeg. An Angel/Highlander crossover
1. Prologue - Part One

## To Days Gone By

By [Cynamin][1] and [NutMeg][2]

_Disclaimers: We own no rights to Angel or Highlander or any of the characters and situations from those shows.We just like to play with their lives sometimes.The title comes from the song "Drink With Me" from Les Miserables. _

_Author's notes:It's an Angel/Highlander crossover! This fits in our ever-expanding "Journal of the Observer" universe.The character of T'zara is in Cynamin's story "Journal Begins: Lady T'zara."This story also takes place immediately before "Coming Home," also by Cynamin.Someday I'll make a timeline of this universe…Anyway, you don't need to read any of those – this story stands alone. _

**Galway, Ireland, 1753 **

He watched the boy stumble out of the tavern highlighted by smoky candle flame, a wench on each arm, and wobble off towards the stables around back. Shaking his head he headed into the tavern himself. He could use a good stiff drink after a long day on the road. A long day of a long trip.A VERY long trip.

The inside of the place was warm and inviting. A man sat in the corner fiddling a gig while a couple of dancers reeled about the floor, more than a little drunk. It was crowded on such a cold, drizzly night. No one wanted to be outdoors. The skinny Welshman had had enough of the outdoors to last him a lifetime or two. 

Slipping through the crowded tables, he took a seat close to the fireplace to dry off and get warm. When a serving woman in a daringly low-cut dress came over he ordered an Irish Malt Whiskey, knowing that if he asked for a*Scottish* Malt Whiskey -which, in his opinion was much better- he would likely be run out of town. He smiled at her in a friendly-type manner as she moved away. When she returned with his drink she smiled dazzlingly back at him, her green eyes sparkling. "You've come far 'aven't ye?" she asked in a sweet lilting brogue. "Where ye be from?" 

The Welshman chuckled. "You name it," he replied in his own Welsh accent."I've been as far as yer dreams and back agin." 

"An' what would ye know 'bout mah dreams?" she replied. 

"More'n you think, sweet lady," he said in his most charming manner. 

She snorted lightly. "'Ow am I t'know ye arn't just a talker? Can ye hold yer likker?" 

He nearly laughed outright at her comment. If she only KNEW! Instead, he winked at her and took the whole mug down in a single draught. Finishing he licked the last drops from his lips and held it out to her. "Another if you donna mind. I'm good to go all night." He met her eyes to let her know his true meaning. 

The wench looked thoughtful for a moment then graced him with her smile again. "Really? Well then, I jus' may 'ave te test ye before ye go." 

Just then she was called away by a group of rowdy young locals nearby. She had just returned with his second mug when the young man he had seen earlier staggered back in the door, alone this time. The woman shook her head. "Ye'd think he'd a'learned te hold 'is drinking after as much as he's had the last few months alone. Some boys ne'er do learn." 

"Who is he?" the dark-haired Welshman asked, glancing over his shoulder at the door. 

"His name's Liam, and that's all ye need know," she replied. "He's a troublemaker. Always in here a'nights getting completely sloshed." 

The Welshman with the beaked nose sighed. He knew that feeling only too well. "Ah," was all he said on the subject. "That'll be good to know. Tell me, lovely," he smiled at her again. "What be *your* name?" 

The woman smiled. "Bella." 

"Lovely," he sighed as if tasted it. "Bella. Beautiful." 

Now Bella was blushing. "That's enough out of ye now. I must'a be gittin' back ta servin'." 

The not-quite-Welshman sighed. "All right, m'lovely. As long as I get to see you again." 

"Perhaps," Bella nodded her russet head as she moved away again. 

He has just finished off his third mug of whiskey when someone slammed into the chair beside him. Jumping backwards, the dark-haired not-quite-Welshman almost reached for his dagger before he realized it was the man...Liam. 

"Bella!" the boy bellowed. "Service!" Then he glanced over at the man next to him. "And who might ye be at my table?" he asked, slurring the words terribly. The thick brogue didn't help any. 

"Adam," the not-really-a-Welshman replied. 

"Adam? Ye must be pretty old then!" Liam chuckled at his own joke. 

Adam sighed. *If you only knew, lad.* He replied "What are you havin?" 

The Irishman smiled. "Depends on when the ladies get finished for the night." 

The large-nosed man couldn't argue with that logic. "Have a whisky on me. I could use a drinkin' partner." 

Liam nodded agreeably and yelled across the room again. "Bella! Whiskey for me and my friend!" 

Adam smiled. Maybe he could manage to actually get drunk tonight. It had been a long time since he'd been able to get to the stage where he actually passed out. Got harder every day. He took down the fourth mug in record time. 

* * *

It was the crowing of the rooster that awoke them, covered in sticky places where the liquer had spilled, and completely hungover. At least, Liam was.The ladies were long gone. 

Sitting up, Liam groaned as his head pounded in protest.His father would have told him it served him right, but he didn't care.The drinking had been good, the companionship even better, and in no time at all the hangover would be gone and he could get good and drunk again. 

Speaking of companionship, Liam remembered that there had been a drinking partner as well last night. Looking around - slowly, so as not to disturb his aching head - he wondered if he had left when the ladies had. 

Adam hadn't.He was sitting up, wide awake, watching him.And smiling slightly. "Mornin'." He felt good. Of course, he hadn't been able to get truly hungover in years. It just didn't happen anymore. "How be ye this fine day?" He breathed in the fresh air with a deep whiff. "Good stuff they brew around here. You got any more?" 

Liam stared at him like he was crazy. 

Adam chuckled slightly when Liam didn't reply."I guess you're more than a bit hung over, aren't you?" he said. "That's what you get drinking all night.You hiding from someone?" 

"Maybe I be, maybe I'm not," Liam replied, in no mood to explain himself to this near stranger. 

"Ah.Hiding from yourself then?" Adam knew how that felt. He'd done it for years. 

Liam wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so he shook the hay from his hair and rose unsteadily to his feet, head pounding all the while. 

Adam tried not to laugh any more at his new friend's expense. The boy was obviously not living the happiest of lives at the moment. And hadn't been for a while he'd wager. And he couldn't remember the last time he's lost a bet. Instead of pushing, he got up himself and gave Liam a shoulder to steady himself on. "Let's get you somethin' to drink. Water I'm a' thinking. Unless you'd like to show the lovely ladies inside how much you had last night by layin' it all out before 'em." He led the boy around back to the water trough in back by the stable and joined him in a fresh drink and a cold splash in the face. 

Liam was still feeling terrible, but a bit more likely able to walk straight.His head was still pounding, and he really would have liked to just curl up and die, but he'd survived yesterday morning and many a morning before that, so he'd survive this one too.Still...he leaned against the water trough, waiting until he wasn't feeling quite so green. 

"You got anywhere to be?" Adam asked after a moment. 

Liam shrugged."Home, I guess."Not that he was in any hurry.... 

"You guess?" 

"It'll be a while afore they send anyone out a lookin' fer me."He said it like it didn't matter...but it did.Seemed his family either wanted him to be the perfect son or ignore that he was there.Right now the 'ignore him' choice sounded just fine.Really. 

"Then how 'bout a walk to get the blood flowing, and the heads te stop pounding?" Adam offered? For some reason he was feeling charitable toward the kid. Maybe he could offer some advice that might make his life a little better. Or just an open ear. 

Liam looked a little dubious, and unsteady on his feet, but nodded."Sure, why not? But someplace quiet." 

Adam grinned. "Of course. And where yer da won't find us too quickly." He let Liam set the pace, and pick the direction as they left the vicinity of the tavern and headed out into the Galway countryside. 

All in all, it was starting out to be a lovely day.The sky was clear, the weather warm...but Liam didn't pay much attention to his surroundings.He did notice that the sun was very bright that day - painfully so.But the alternative was returning home. He much preferred the sunlight-amplified headache to a fight with his father. 

Adam was also enjoying the fresh air and the sparkling green surroundings as the sun caught the last few drops of morning dew. Ireland really was lovely. He should spend more time here someday. It really was beautiful country. Of course, most places he'd been *were* beautiful in their own rights, but none as lushly verdant as this. He was so busy waxing poetic in his own mind on the subject of nature, that Adam was almost startled to hear the man moving slowly along side him ask, "So wha' brought ye t' Ireland?" 

The not-quite-Welshman looked over at his newly acquired friend, noting that he looked a little less green now. At least not quite as green as the grass they stood on. He smiled. "The drink, the women, and the land." It was a simple enough reason. No need for giving more detail then that. 

"Just that?" Liam asked, sounding slightly confused."They don't have those where you come from?" 

It was a pointed question towards Adam's origins, but he ignored it.His slight shrug in response just baffled Liam more.Why would anyone want to come *here?*He couldn't understand why anyone would just come to this boring town when there was nothing more that he wanted right now than to get out of it.He was tempted, now that he was feeling a bit more alive, to just keep walking.Who knew where he might end up?But a tiny thread of reality inserted himself, and he knew that he would end up nowhere.The middle of nowhere without any money to his name.Hell, that sounded like his father talking... 

Instead of taking the bait about where he came from, Adam continued walking. Why *was* he here? For all the things he had said yes....but they had those things everywhere he'd ever been, and that was a lot more ground than most people ever covered. "It's nice here," he finally said. "It's nice tah go somewhere where no one knows who you are, or how much money you have, or if you can hold liquer, bluff at gamblin'. You arrive in a new place and you get tah be someone completely different if you want. There's a peace in bein' a mystery. An' it's kinda fun," he smiled. "Does that answer your question?" 

Liam nodded slightly to himself."It does," he replied shortly, lost in thought.Be someone else for once...a place where no one knows who you are...It was a nice thought.It just made him think of how stuck in this place he was, though."How do you do it?Just pack up one day and leave?" 

Adam chuckled. "I wish it were that easy." 

When the man with the distinct nose didn't say anything further, Liam decided to push the topic. "So how did you?" 

Adam sighed. *Here we go. Time for evasion.* "Well I--look out!" He yelled, leaping aside frantically and drawing his sword. He swung as a second man dropped out of the trees. 

Liam did what he was told just in time to see a man in shabby clothes land at his feet. Drawing a dagger he blocked the man's first thrust with the end of a staff. But his head was slowing him up and he knew it. The second thrust caught him in the stomach and he fell backwards, the air knocked out of him for a moment. 

Adam saw the boy go down and knocked the man he was fighting away long enough the gut the thug with the staff. *We've got to get out of here or he's done for,* he thought, protecting the boy with his body. "You all right?" he asked aloud. 

The surprise of being attacked and the fall seemed to have cured Liam of the last of his hangover, and he nodded as he waited to catch his breath.The man Adam had been fighting used his momentary distraction to come at him from behind, but Liam saw him.He scrambled into a crouch and propelled himself just far enough to grasp the man around the knees.He went down just as effectively as anyone in the tavern ever had. 

Unlike those he faced in tavern brawls, though, this man rolled and quickly got back up.Liam had to scramble to relative safety once again.He reached for his dagger, only to find that he's lost it when the thug had knocked him down. 

Breathing heavily, Adam stood back to back with Liam, watching the circle of thugs that had formed around them. *Common road brigands. No, uncommon brigands. They're too well trained.* His answer came in the form of another thug. But this one was better dressed: all in rich browns with a deep red cape. Adam could feel him in a way he knew Liam couldn't. This man was *not* normal. Adam didn't know him, but he knew he was trouble. "You can fight me, but leave the boy alone. He's not one of us." 

The man looked at him curiously for a moment, then smiled cruelly."I'll leave the boy alone, but I think my men would get bored."As he said that the thugs turned their attention to Liam, leaving Adam and the caped man alone. 

Liam knew without a doubt that this was *not* good.He wasn't doing too well one on one; now he was out numbered.His companion and the leader of the men who'd attacked them were busy staring each other down - Liam couldn't hear what they were saying - and he knew that he'd have to try and get out of this mess on his own.Unarmed. 

Somehow, he didn't think there was a great likelihood of that happening. 

Adam smiled ferally at his opponent. "Now how sportsman-like is it to send thugs after an innocent boy?" He shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that." He took one slow step back, then spun and ran the nearest thug through right below the ribcage. He danced away and killed another two before he had to face the dangerous stranger again. Now Liam's fight was only one against four, instead of against seven. *You're odds are a little better boy. I hope you can hold them off a bit longer,* he thought as the other man attempted to circle him. Adam smiled at the man again, obviously infuriating him. *He's fairly young. This shouldn't be too much of a challenge.* "Well, come and get me. I haven't got all day." 

If Liam's father could see him now, he'd know that all that time spent in the tavern was at least good for something.While this fight was not exactly a tavern brawl - too much space, not enough heavy furniture - he was somewhat prepared to take on the four thugs that now approached him.Definitely better than his odds from a moment ago, and Liam was more than glad for his companion's help. 

Now *there* was someone who could fight.Liam had seen the ease with which Adam had dispatched the other three thugs.It almost made him confident that he could indeed take out the last 4.At least he'd manage to survive this day. 

So would Adam, certainly.After all, no one could defeat someone who fought like *that.* 

If Adam could have heard his new friend's thoughts, he would have wished for that kind of confidence. This new fellow was not as easily dispatched as Adam had hoped.They were both bleeding now from dozens of grazing cuts, and Adam knew that if this fellow didn't make a mistake soon, the large-nosed Welshman was going to find himself getting quickly winded. As he danced, constantly shifting feet and direction, he saw a possible opening. There. And there again! Yes, the young brigand had a weakly guarded point. He waited, it opened up again, and he lunged. 

Agony poured through Adam's side as he felt the other man's blade penetrate his left lung. But his own blade struck too, sliding right up and into the other man's heart. Using the last of his strength, he yanked the sword free again, and holding it high as he stumbled forward, he decapitated the dying man that lay before him. 

Liam was too busy trying to stay alive to notice what had happened at first.He'd managed to knock out one of his opponents with a well thrown punch to the side of his head - or maybe it was the rock he landed on that actually knocked him out - but the other three were still standing.They were all tired, but Liam was breathing heavily, his whole body felt bruised, and worse, his headache was coming back. 

Suddenly the three brigands stopped in their tracks and looked over Liam's shoulder. Taking a foolish risk, the young Irishman did the same. He turned just in time to see the two swordsmen collapse to the ground, one beheaded, and Adam gasping and coughing up blood. *I'm dead,* was his first thought after a silent gasp. The next thing he noticed was that the other brigands were running off into the woods, leaderless. 

Shocked at his amazing luck in surviving at all, Liam sprinted to where Adam had fallen. Both men were dead. 

He stumbled to his knees.Liam was shocked, exhausted, and emotionally numb.He'd just met this man...this man who could have been a friend.And now he was dead in some strange forest battle with no purpose he could begin to understand.He backed away from Adam's body, his hands stained with his blood.Gripped by a fear he didn't understand, he stumbled to his feet and away from the battle scene. 

Later he would think that he had left before the thugs could come back and finish him off as well.That was, however, after several drinks to drown out the fact that he's left Adam in the woods.There would be several more drinks left to go. 

* * *

Gasp! Adam shuddered with a convulsive breath as his heart began to beat once more. He placed one hand over the tear in his clothes. *All healed. Not a scratch.* Heaving a deep sigh of relief, he rolled over and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He looked at the headless corpse next to him. *Nice to get a quickening that didn't wake the dead for once,* he thought to himself. The air sparked with the fading remnants of energy given off by a quickening. 

No longer concerned with the permanently dead immortal beside him, Adam stood and reclaimed his sword, wiping it with the coat tails of his adversary before sheathing it. He gave a mocking salute to the body. "Thanks for the exercise, friend. Have a good rest." Glancing around to make sure there was no one else to detain him, he moved off in the opposite direction from the town he'd just left. He would go south for a while. Maybe Greece. 

Around him, the trees whispered a spell of silence. And a word. 

Methos. 

**Present Day: Los Angeles, California**

**Part One**

"Aspirin!" the pretty brunette managed to gasp out from where she crouched on the floor. 

"You saw aspirin?" her British companion asked in confusion. 

She glared back at him as she climbed back to her feet."Wesley-" 

"Oh, right!So sorry." 

The older brit left to fulfill her request, leaving the girl and the third occupant of the room alone for the moment.She began writing quickly on a pad of paper on the desk next to her. 

"What is it?What did you see, Cordelia?" he asked in an urgent but anxious voice. 

Wesley returned with two aspirin and a glass of water just as she finished writing.She swallowed them quickly, gesturing wildly with her other hand for a moment before she spoke. "Two guys...guys with swords.In an alley. One of them killed the other...chopped off his head."She made a face of disgust. 

"What did they look like?" 

Cordelia thought for a moment."It was dark...you know, night and all...and they were wearing long coats.Which you ask me is the most ridiculous thing to be wearing in the summer."She looked at her companion, who was already putting on a long coat of his own. "Forget I said that," she mumbled. 

"Were they demons?" Wesley asked, sounding oddly excited at the prospect. 

"No," Cordelia replied, rolling her eyes slightly."Just people with swords cutting each others' heads off." 

"That's terribly mundane compared to everything else Angel has been called for," Wesley commented, confused. 

"It's weird enough for me," Cordelia muttered. 

"She's right."Angel took the address Cordelia had written, grabbed a sword of his own, and hurried out the door. 

* * *

It had been hours, and still Angel could find no trace of the surviving man with the sword. The one who had chopped off the other's head. This was *not* typical human behavior. At least, not in modern day Los Angeles. Not when a gun with a silencer worked much faster, and left less of a mess. 

He had followed Cordelia's instructions and found the alley where the fight had occurred. It had been roped off by police, and Angel hadn't been in the mood to run into Kate. Especially not while wearing a sword of his own. She didn't trust him further than she could throw him. In other words, not at all. 

Still, the vampire had the feeling he should know where this fellow had gone. 

Something familiar about beheadings tugged in the back of his mind, but he couldn't place it. *So many years as Angelus, I'm sure I witnessed a few beheadings.* Going on instinct he headed toward downtown. It wasn't the nicest part of town. But there were plenty of places to hide, and it was likely whomever he was searching for would be hiding there. 

Stalking the shadows like the creature of darkness he was, Angel was extremely alert.Every vampiric sense was open for a sign of the very human murderer he knew was around here somewhere.A part of Angel wondered briefly why he had been sent after this man.That same part wondered what he would do if...no, when he found him.He would not kill him, and as things stood he could hardly hand him over to the police.Or maybe he could deliver him like Batman would, all tied up like a present on the police station's front step.... 

The area he was in was getting worse by the second, and it was becoming hard to smell anything about the typical smells of the alley.It was confusing his senses...even the smallest sounds echoed strangely...But there was a heartbeat here.Someone alive.And faintly, the scent of fresh blood.... Behind him...? 

The clash of metal on metal came to him suddenly from an alley he had passed barely a minute before. Spinning on one foot, the vampire nearly flew back the way he had come. He didn't bother to stop as he came around the corner and took in the scene in front of him. 

Two men in trench coats with long swords going at it for all they were worth. The one with his back to Angel was winning, and in the dark, Angel's senses could pick up the scent of dried blood on his coat. Again the vampire felt that there was something familiar about the scene, but he pushed the thought away to deal with later. Running full tilt towards them he grabbed the one closest to him and yanked him away from the other man. Stunned, the taller stranger turned and fled. Angel hauled the shorter, thinner man up against the wall and pinned him their with every ounce of his vampire strength. "What do you think you're doing?" he snarled at the man. "The police want you for murder." 

The man squirmed and his face came into the light from a distant street lamp. Angel froze. He knew this man...but...that was impossible! The memory came to him clearly of the events that befell him before the night of his turning. A hungover young Irishman befriended by an odd stranger. A sword fight, both men dead. "Adam?" 

The distinct-nosed man stared at him fearfully, and Angel realized that the smell of blood had made his game face come out unprompted. He forced his face back to normal. The man stopped squirming to look at him for a moment, squinted, then blinked again. "How do you know I am this Adam you seek?" he asked in what seemed a Welsh accent, though not exactly. 

Everything about this man screamed that he *was* Adam. Angel smiled and let him go. "It's me. Liam. From Galway, 1753. From the pub."He felt very strange *introducing* himself like this.For one thing, he hadn't even used his given name since then.Not since his younger sister had let him into his family home, thinking he was an angel, returned from the dead.She hadn't known *what* she was letting in... 

But now was not a moment to think about that. Now was a moment to figure out what he'd gotten himself into now.He wasn't the only one returned from the dead.He stepped back slightly to look at Adam, who was straightening his coat and returning his appraising look.This wasn't possible... 

But who was Angel to say what wasn't possible? 

"What are you?" they both asked at the same time. 

Methos chuckled. He was certain that the boy in front of him -he was still a boy by Methos' standards, even at 250+ years old- was stunned to see the man he knew as Adam standing in front of him, breathing, centuries later. But then, he was just as stunned to see the boy he had last scene in a fight in the woods in Galway, Ireland standing in an LA alley, sans accent, and distinctly *not* breathing. He was also missing the color of someone who saw the sun often. He grinned. "I think we've got some things to talk about. But just to settle your fears, I'm human. I'm not a ghost, ghoul, demon, or figment. And I could use a drink. Is there a good pub about?" 

Angel was decidedly flustered by this turn of events.At least now he understood why he had been sent here.This wasn't a simple situation afterall.Almost without thinking about it he found himself leading his long-dead-sort-of-friend to what had once been Doyle's favorite bar."We can talk there," he said, somewhat wondering if he was ever going to get the answers he wanted. 

He led Adam down a few blocks to the bar and they went inside. It had always been Doyle's favorite because it was owned by an Irishman who'd come over only about ten years before. Mike McGillavry was one of a family who's business was brewing going back over three hundred years. So it was the real Irish stuff....not the cheap American rip-offs. As they entered and took seats as the bar he removed his coat. "It's been 100 years since I really had a drink. So don't be too insulted if I don't have much." 

The other man chuckled and looked as if the thought amused him. But then, considering how reeling drunk Angel had been when they met, he couldn't blame the fellow. 

Neither said anything as they gave their drink orders.Probably they were trying to figure out where to start.Neither had really known much about the other about 250 years ago.Now they knew even less.They just knew they had one thing in common - a very long life-span.Immortal both, human and other, they waited for each other to speak first. 

Adam finally spoke, relieving Angel of the burden."So, Liam..." 

"It's Angel now," he interrupted gently. 

Adam smiled and nodded. "Angel. Sounds like a name a woman might have pinned on you. But I'm thinking that's not it from the look on your face. Names are interesting things. Take me for example. I've gone by Adam many times. I still do currently. But it's not my real name." He picked up the frothy beer he was given and took a strong swig. "I've been alive a lot longer than you. After a while names begin to mean less and less." He looked at Angel and stuck out his hand. "Angel from 1700's Galway, I'm Methos, the oldest man on earth." 

Angel just looked at him for a moment.He shook his hand quickly."That's an odd way to introduce yourself," he said once they released hands. 

"Not when it's the literal truth," Methos replied. 

Angel just nodded at that. 

"And you, Angel?" Methos prompted after a moment of silence. 

Angel took a sip of his drink before he began."I'm...a vampire."The words felt very strange in his mouth...and suddenly Angel realized he'd never actually told anyone before.Everyone who knew had either known before he met them or found out on their own. 

"With a soul," Methos added. When Angel looked shocked, the Immortal continued. "You'd have to have one. Vampires have always been known for their lack of compassion. They suck blood, revel in the hunt and kill as much as feeding, and don't care much for society. You're here, in a respectable bar where you're friends with the owner, having polite conversation with me when it's nearly dawn. And you tried to save the man I was fighting." 

"How do you know so much about vampires?" Angel asked. "I'm used to being either a myth or a nightmare." 

Methos chuckled. "I'm over 5,000 years old. I've had time to learn the truth of most myths and legends. For many of those who've heard of Immortals, I *am* a myth and a legend." 

Angel took that in without comment.In his experience myths and legends were more often true than not.Then something stood out in what the Immortal had said. "5000?" Angel asked in shock. 

The Immortal grinned. "I was born in Sumer. I can't even remember the first time I died." 

"The *first* time?" Angel was having trouble taking all this in. It was almost weirder than vampires and demons! 

"Immortals can only be killed permanently by beheading. You stab me, I'll die, heal, and come back. Not too unlike the way vampires can only die by staking. Though we can die by fire too, like you. There isn't really a head or neck when you're done with that." He finished off his first beer and started another. 

"But why kill each other at all?" Angel was intrigued. 

"Because there can be only one," Methos said, smiling at his own use of the over-used phrase. "Each time we kill another, we gain that Immortal's knowledge, fighting skill, and power. That makes us harder to kill. Whichever Immortal is the last will be the most powerful thing on earth. If we didn't all fight, only those who are greedy and power hungry would have that power. That can't happen." 

Angel gave that some thought."I see," he said, though he only did to a point.This still didn't explain why Cordelia's vision had sent him out here tonight.It obviously was not to stop Adam...Methos. There had to be something else going on that the Immortal was a part of."So...the Immortal you were fighting..." 

Methos shrugged. "Just some young upstart. Like the one who attacked us in Galway, but with even less experience. He doesn't deserve to die, but he attacked *me.* And he wouldn't listen to reason. I would have let him go if I could have talked some sense into him. Otherwise I would have had to take his head." 

Angel looked down at his drink, still untouched on the bar in front of him. What a way of life! Having to kill for no reason other than to live, but all that time having a soul to feel guilt, to regret, to remember. He picked up the mug and took a gulp. He was glad he'd only ordered a beer. The thought was enough to make him wish he were drunk enough that this might all be a dream. 

"I see you understand," Methos sighed. "It's not an easy life. You lose a lot of friends, all your family, usually the woman you love." 

Angel looked at him sharply at that.Perhaps they had more in common than he'd originally thought."Yeah, it does," he agreed softly.He stood up suddenly then, not wishing to dwell on that thought. 

Methos looked at him slightly startled."Where are you going?" 

"You said it yourself; it's almost dawn," Angel said as he grabbed his coat from the back of his chair."I need to get back to my place."He paused for a moment. "We could continue this conversation there, if you like." 

Methos nodded. "I just got in to LA. I've got nothing better to do." 

Angel led Methos down into the sewers and across town, arriving at his apartment just after dawn. "Make yourself at home," he said as they entered. "You're welcome to anything in the kitchen, just let me change. 

A night of chasing you down through the dirty end of town leaves much to be desired in the way of cleanliness." 

The older man smiled. "Thanks. Go ahead, I'll be here." 

Angel didn't doubt that he would be. He quickly stripped, showered, and changed into clean jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. When he came back out he found Methos in the recliner, a bottle of Coke in hand. 

The Immortal grinned. "You weren't kidding about the lack of good liquor in this place." 

Angel smiled. "Do you ever drink anything else?" 

The grin faded. "Not much in the last couple of thousand years." Methos settled further back in the chair and took a long drink of Coke. It obviously didn't have the effect he wanted. "It takes an awful lot to get me more than a little tipsy. One of the advantages to being immortal: no worries about your liver, heart, or anything else breaking down. In fact, they work overtime. Always regenerating." He sighed pensively. 

Angel pulled a soda out of the fridge and sat on the couch, quietly. It was so quiet that he almost jumped when the other man spoke again. 

"Li-Angel. Have you ever lost the most precious thing in your life?" Methos didn't look up, but Angel heard the catch in his voice. 

Angel felt his own throat constrict at the thought.He knew exactly what Methos was talking about, but couldn't say it.Besides, he'd only just met this man...or met him again.Still, Angel felt Methos might be one person who could understand him.He stood abruptly. 

Methos blinked up at him curiously."Where are you going?" 

Angel did not respond immediately, but grabbed a book off the top of a pile on the table.The worn leather cover could no longer be read, but Angel wasn't interested in the words right now.Instead he pulled out a photograph, worn and wrinkled from excessive use as a bookmark.He held out the picture for Methos to see."Is this the sort of thing you're talking about?" Angel asked. 

Methos blinked at the image the vampire put it front of him. It was a stunningly beautiful blonde, very young, no more than twenty, probably younger in the picture. He looked up at Angel. The boy's eyes were wet. "Exactly what I'm talking about," he replied. 

Angel nodded slightly, holding the picture close to look at it once again.He touched the image almost reverently before closing it into the book once again."Her name's Buffy," he said softly as he put the book aside. 

"She's beautiful," the Immortal smiled sadly, thinking of his own *long* lost beloved. "What happened that you aren't with her now?" 

Angel sighed and sat back in the couch."It's...I can't...It's not right for us to be together," he faltered uncomfortably."It's a long story."Not that time was really a concern either of them had..."What about you?Who was she?Whoever you're missing?" 

Methos smiled. "You don't get off that easily. If I talk, so do you," he sighed. "She was the most beautiful thing in history. We were together for almost three-thousand years. And then I lost her." 

"Lost?" 

"She died at Carthage." 

Angel was silent for a moment, having to remind himself, yet again, that this man had been alive since the beginning of civilization. 

"I'm sorry," Angel said softly, feeling a little silly for apologizing for a death that happened 2200 years ago.However, he knew without a doubt if Buffy died he would be mourning her for centuries to come.There was that small comfort; at least Buffy was still alive.Small comfort. 

Methos nodded. "She was an amazing woman, my T'zara." He took another drink of coke, emptying the bottle. "I don't think I've talked about her to anyone in.....two thousand years. For centuries I could think of little else. I failed her, and it was all I could do to keep from going mad." 

Angel said nothing, thinking about Methos' words.Failed her... It was one of Angel's greatest fears. Well, that and killing her, and he'd almost managed the latter."Failed her?" he asked aloud. 

"She should never have been in that battle," the Immortal sighed. "I should have protected her. But instead I was swept up in my own battle fever. When it was over, I couldn't find her. I couldn't sense her. I felt the hum of a quickening during the battle, but I was too caught up to notice. If I had only stayed with her." His voice broke, and it was all Methos could do to keep from crying. 

That only made Angel feel worse.It was one of his greatest nightmares...and an image he had seen repeatedly during his tortures in Hell.Buffy's death while he wasn't there to save her terrified him.Still..."You can't always be there," he whispered. 

"For three *thousand* years we were together," Methos glared at him, but the anger was at himself. "I trained her, loved her, took care of her. She died. Somewhere, I failed. Sometimes, there's nothing you can do. But that doesn't make it any easier. The wondering. The *guilt.* And no matter what you try...you can bury the pain, or make it go away." 

"Three thousand years!" Angel said, surprised once again."She was like you...Immortal." 

Methos nodded. 

"Does that make it any easier?" Angel asked, partially to himself and not exactly expecting an answer."Being...the same?" 

"Not at all," the Immortal replied. "I've been married 68 times, and I loved them all....but none as deeply as her. What would *you* do if for three thousand years you had a constant companion, and then suddenly, one day, you had no one?" The question was hypothetical, but it hit a nerve in both men. "There's nothing I wouldn't give to have her back." 

There was nothing he could say to that, so Angel remained silent.He couldn't imagine loving 68 women...250 years, and he'd only fallen in love once.He couldn't imagine 3000 years with her, either.He only wanted 5...10...60....a human life span by her side.But he'd already given up one chance at that.He could not remain at her side like he wanted and protect her like he wanted.Better that he was not in her life at all. 

"What about you?" Methos spoke again. "I said I'd talk, but only if you did. Why aren't you with this Buffy of yours? And don't give me any of that 'she deserves better' crap. All women deserve better. Problem is men don't *come* in perfect." 

Angel gaped for a second, no words coming out."Well..." 

Methos looked at him slightly annoyed."Don't tell me *you* left her for as dumb a reason as that." 

"It's not that simple," Angel defended himself, unable to work up the energy to be properly offended."I'm a vampire.Cursed, isolated in darkness, drinking blood... She's the Slayer. There's enough darkness in her life without having me there as well.Maybe she can't ever be normal, but she deserves at least something in her life that is.Someone who can go into the sunlight with her, someone who can grow old with her, who can give her children, who can..." 

Angel trailed off before it got *too* personal. 

Methos scoffed. "Did you ever think maybe you bring light to her world? She will *never be* one of them. She is one of us. The rest of the world will never know what she really is. And she needs someone who understands her. You certainly aren't likely to die before she does, and you can't give her children. Would it be *safe* for her to have children? Who would protect her? Who would protect *them?*" 

Angel was stunned at the tirade that was pouring over him like a tidal wave. And Methos wasn't finished. 

"I'm an Immortal. Do you know what that means? Thousands of years of moving on every time you're killed. Leaving everyone behind. Killing to live, and never...*NEVER* being able to have children." 

The vampire looked up at him, stunned silent. 

"You didn't know," Methos continued, the force falling out of his gail as fast as it had hit. He slumped back in the chair. "Not once has an Immortal ever been able to have a child. I can't sire one....and T'zara couldn't carry one. It's never been explained. But at least we had each other. Thousands of years sounds like forever, but it's not. If anything, it accents how short most lives really are. In a blink someone you've met has grown old and died. Wasting time on doubts and arguments...it's a waste of life. Who wants *normal,* which changes every day, when you can have someone who understands you? Who needs *your* understanding and support in return?" 

Angel wasn't done yet though."Who could turn on her without a moments notice?" he said angrily back."Already she bears a scar that I gave her...and I enjoyed it.And that was with my soul!Without it...I won't let that happen again.And the only way - the *only* way - to insure that is to stay away." 

Methos shook his head. "Lovers turn on each other every day. Any time I could have had a dark quickening, or she could have. And one of us would have had no choice but to kill the other, to keep them from possibly destroying the earth. It could still happen. I've seen good people take innocent lives while controlled by darkness. Only one thing can successfully combat darkness and hatred, and that's love. I've known hate. I've *been* hate." He stood and headed toward the elevator. "I need a drink. I'll be back in a few minutes." 

Angel simply nodded as his sort-of-friend left the room. It was obvious he didn't understand what Angel was going through. What did he know of the joy of killing? What it felt like to torture someone, then take their life. He was still wondering when a bottle landed in his lap with a soft thud. He looked up. Irish Whiskey. 

Methos nodded. "The store down the street was open. I picked up a few." He sat down again. "I can see on your face that you don't believe me." 

Angel laughed and told the man what he had just been thinking. 

The Immortal's face went cold as stone. "I haven't known the joy of killing have I? Have you ever heard of the Four Horsemen?" 

"A myth," Angel replied, then realize what he had just said. In the light of their earlier conversation...he shuddered. "You?" 

Methos opened his bottle and took a long pull, taking half of it in one drink. "We were killers, murderers. We tortured and raped the innocent. Stole everything they had, and enjoyed every minute of it. I'm not proud of what I did then, but I can't deny that I loved it when that was me. I was Death, and that cold hate filled me, filled the empty place inside me." He finished the rest of the bottle. 

Angel opened his own bottle and took a sip. It burned warmly down his throat, a feeling he hadn't known in over a hundred years. But the flavor was familiar. He took a longer drink and looked up at Methos. 

"I don't think..." Angel stopped and tried again.He couldn't understand what it was like to *choose* to kill, to torture.All those memories of deaths at his hand were out of his control.he took another sip."I would never hurt her...hurt anyone...intentionally.But when...There was nothing I could do to stop it.Maybe we don't understand each other completely, but we both know what it feels like to kill."he looked at Methos once again."How could you choose such a thing?" 

Methos looked embarrassed. "I've asked myself that a million times. Really, I lost control after T'zara was gone. All I felt was grief at first. But hate is often born of grief, and when offered the change to get revenge on the people who killed her, I jumped at the opportunity. But it didn't stop there. It continued. And I couldn't make myself care about what I was doing. I was a monster by day *and* by night." He took a drink. "What I did was inexcusable. I know that. I knew that then...but I didn't feel any guilt. The cruelty filled the hole in my heart. But it didn't help to close it. I ignored my pain as long as I could. I couldn't do it forever." He emptied the second bottle. 

Angel couldn't imagine not feeling guilt.Or, actually, he could, and it frightened him.He took another drink."Pain is pretty hard to ignore," he muttered in agreement. 

Methos didn't answer immediately, and the two men sat drinking in silence. The number of empty bottles on the coffee table grew. "We're hopelessly flawed of course," he said at last. "Inflicting pain on our own souls in a sad attempt to make us feel that those we have hurt feel better because of it. How can they? They don't even know we suffer over what we've done to them. We're too afraid to tell them. Fearing that they'll say we deserve it. It's different when they say it than when we do to ourselves. It stops being a private pain...penance, and becomes a public torture. So we keep it bottled up, soaking through our bodies down to the deepest marrow." He paused, and looked up to meet Angel's eyes. "But what if we told them? And they understood our pain, and told us that our penance was enough. It's what we always want to hear, but fear to disclose. The rejection would destroy our lovely delusions. So we sink deeper into them, hiding from reality." He drank again. 

It was like Methos was seeing into his thoughts."I can't tell her," Angel said after another swallow."She's seen enough...no need to reopen old wounds, right?She never brought it up...I never brought it up...and it's too late now anyway so why am I telling you this!" 

Methos sighed. "Because I'm the first person you've met who is just as capable of wallowing in self-pity as you are." Another drink. 

"I don't wallow," Angel replied defensively. 

Methos just looked at him. 

"Okay...so maybe I sort of *dwell.*And I admit I brood a lot. But in all my life...death...whatever...there have only been 2 years I can honestly say were good.2 years versus 245...and that's not even counting Hell-time, which I don't even know how to count.So don't I have reason to brood?You had 3 thousand years.I had 2." 

Methos watched the vampire finish off another bottle of whisky. He had a point about the amount of time he'd been able to spend being different from the Immortal's. "What is life without love, Angel? How much meaning does time have? It's all relative. I'm not going to get into an argument over who has more reason to wallow in denial and liquor. Yes, I had three thousand years with the woman I loved. But do you think that makes it any easier to live without her? Two years is such a brief amount of time. Just a blink in the length of life that you will probably lead. But it still hurts you that you can't be with her. Imagine what it would feel like if you and Buffy *had* had all that time together. Were sure you'd be happy lovers until the end of time? Then had that all ripped away in the span of a day?" 

"It was.Ripped away in a day, I mean," Angel said, not paying much attention to the words anymore."Not...not when I left...That had been coming for a while.And ...I think we always knew, deep down, that it wasn't going to work.But we got a chance, once.One day where I thought...we both thought...that we could just be happy lovers, not until the end of time, but until both of us died mortal deaths."He sat back in the couch and finished off the bottle he was holding."But it never works.It's never that easy." 

He looked at Methos again."I'm not saying you don't have as much reason to brood.I'm...just saying that you're lucky you had what you did." 

"I know that," the older man replied. "But at least the love of your life is alive, and you know where she is. Just because you can't have a life like the rest of the world doesn't mean the two of you couldn't be happy with whatever time you still have. You're both young. You still have the chance." 

Angel chuckled despite himself."Young, huh?That's something I haven't been called in a long time." 

"Age is relative," Methos pointed out."Compared to me...you're still young." 

Angel didn't let himself get too sidetracked, though."Even so...we don't really have a chance.We never did." 

"You love her," the Immortal said, setting down the empty bottle in his hand. "That gives you all the chance you need. Does she love you?" 

"I...I hope she does.She did...but I left," Angel tried to explain."She found someone new..."*Like I wanted her to,* Angel did not add. 

"Are you sure?" Methos prodded. "She's human. Hearts aren't easily changed. It's amazing what rocky times two people can make it through if they just refuse to let things break them apart. Love doesn't always go smoothly." 

"No it doesn't," Angel agreed, taking another swallow of whiskey.He blinked then at the empty bottle in his hand and the empty bottles strewn on the table."There isn't anymore?" he said in confusion. 

Methos smiled. "There are more in the fridge. If you're capable of getting it." 

"Of course, I can," Angel replied, pushing himself up onto his feet, and immediately pitching forward onto the couch. 

He chuckled when he looked up again."Or maybe I can't," he replied."You know what...I think I've had too much.I don't suppose you could get it?" 

Methos chuckled. "I've had more than you, my friend. But, I think I can manage." He managed, but just barely. Methos stood, pausing a moment before stepped a little too steadily into the kitchen to retrieve the last bottles of whisky. He grinned as he handed one off to Angel, placing the others on the table and taking one for himself. 

Angel took another swallow from the bottle he'd been given."I really shouldn't have anymore," he said.

"Hey, it's not like you can die from it, right?" 

Angel chuckled. After four bottles of liquor almost anything was funny. "I am going to be *so* sick tomorrow." 

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" Methos took a drink. "Now all we need are the women." 

"Yeah." Angel started to laugh again, but it died in his throat."This conversation just went full circle, didn't it?" 

Methos nodded somberly, if nowhere *near* soberly. He hadn't be really drunk in a long time, but it was more by his Immortal genetics than for lack of trying. T'zara had always hated his drinking, and he hadn't done much while with her. After her death there hadn't seemed to have been much point in staying sober. "It did. I envy you." 

Angel stared at him. "Why?" he asked incredulously. 

"Because the most precious creature in the world to you is still out there. Safe, and probably happy, and knowing that you are too, even if you aren't together." He took another drink. This was depressing. "Someday, for no apparent reason, she could come through your door, or maybe just call to say hello. I don't have that chance, that hope." 

"I'm sorry," Angel faltered.Methos did seem to know how to make his relationship issues seem small.Quite a talent."Still...and Cordelia would point out now how addicted to brooding I am, and she'd be right... The last time that Buffy came through that door...Well, saying it went badly would be a gross understatement." 

"What happened?" the other man asked. 

Angel drained the bottle in his hand before answering. Slowly he told Methos everything that had happened: Finding Faith in LA, Buffy coming in when he was comforting the other Slayer, the ensuing arguments, the scene in the Police station, and his going to Sunnydale to apologize and everything that happened there. "After all that I can't imagine her wanting to see me again." He looked up at the sound of chuckling. "What?" he asked, feeling affronted. 

Methos stifled his laughter. "I'm sorry, but I've been where you are. It's not exactly a new scenario. The majority of relationships have arguments very similar to yours, whether or *not* the couple is perfectly normal or not. T'zara and I had some humongous fights, usually ending in one of us getting killed or at least stabbed. There's a very fine line between true love and absolute hatred, and feelings for someone makes any little sway in either direction all that much more extreme to the people feeling it. You both lashed out in anger, and forgave each other afterward. Life isn't a soap opera." 

"It sure feels like it sometimes," Angel muttered.His mind wandered, though, to Spike of all people.More specifically, something he had said once./You'll be in love 'till it kills you both.You'll fight and you'll shag and you'll hate each other 'till it makes you quiver but you'll never be friends./He nodded slightly to himself."Maybe you're right." 

Methos didn't give any smug reply, but instead smiled at him. "Women are the better have of the gene pool, and we'd be fools not to admit that we need them. Our sanity depends on it." He looked at the nearly empty bottle in his hand. "You know, for a drunk, I talk an awful lot." 

Angel couldn't help but laugh slightly at that."I think it's *because* I'm drunk," he pointed out."I never talk this much; just ask. Especially not about..." 

"Buffy?" Methos provided helpfully. 

"Yeah.I think about her all the time, but I don't talk about her." 

"I'm the same way about T'zara. The difference is no one else around today even remembers her. At least they don't say so if they do. And she was very powerful," Methos smiled nostalgically and raised the bottle to his lips. "She was amazing." 

"Buffy was...is...amazing too," Angel reflected as he reclined on the couch."You should see her fight.She's so *strong.*Everything about her is...more.She thinks and feels so strongly.And she chose to share that with me.Amazing."He took another swallow. 

Methos held up the last of his whisky in what was obviously a shaky toast. "To days gone bye, and the women who make them worth remembering." 

Two bottles were raised, and neither dropped until they were both emptied to such a worthy cause. 

(Continued)

   [1]: mailto:cynamin@hotmail.com
   [2]: mailto:leighscott@hotmail.com



	2. Part 2 - End

## To Days Gone By

By Cynamin & NutMeg

Disclaimer: We own nothing having to do with Angel or Highlander. So just enjoy.

**Part Two**

Cordelia was late.She knew Angel wouldn't yell at her, or even be mad at her.He'd just give her this *look* and then give her something to do as if it was a usual day.She just hated that. 

The door was locked, though, when she went to enter.Confused, she slipped the key from her purse and into the office door, opening it easily.the office was silent."Hello?" she called, closing the door behind her. 

No one answered. 

"Guys, I know I'm late but that's no reason to lock me out!" 

She sighed.Then she remembered that last she had seen Angel he was heading off after some sword fighter.*Probably got himself hurt and didn't tell anyone.*She worked her way across the office and to the stairs. 

"If you went and got killed I'm going to stake you, I swear,' she muttered, not even hearing the absurdity of her statement. 

A heady stench nearly knocked Cordelia off her feet as she entered the apartment. She didn't need to sniff to find out what it was, it was accosting her nostrils with all the strength of a months dirty trash. *Why would there be liquor down here?* She stepped further inside, covering her nose with her sleeve, and stopped short at the sight in front of her. 

Angel was sprawled haphazardly across his couch, mouth open, snoring loudly. His normally neat appearance was non-existent, as his shirt was rumpled and obviously slept in. There were stains all over it from spilled liquid and it wasn't blood. 

Nearly covering the table was a mountain of bottles; some standing, some laying on their sides. Not a one had anything in it. Taking a quick inventory Cordelia was shocked. *16 bottles?!* Could anyone *drink* that much and live? Of course, Angel wasn't exactly *alive* but still! *When did he take up intoxication as a hobby?* 

What surprised her the most was what slept in the chair on the other side of the glass mountain. A man, also reeking of alcohol, but much less slovenly looking and not snoring, was looking quite comfortable. He was the man from the vision! One of the sword guys. And yet here he was, in her boss's apartment, and they both appeared to have been having a great time the night before. 

Cordelia bent over to take a closer look at Angel. 

"Don't move." 

Cordelia's eyes opened wide and she turned slowly around. The man in the chair's eyes were dark, and amazingly clear. They seemed to hold her in place. "I...I just want to see if he's okay." 

The dark-haired man with the accent that sounded a little like a cross between Wesley and Doyle chuckled. "With seven bottles of good Irish whisky in him he's probably dreaming of some heavenly nymph. He's fine. Let him sleep or if you don't kill him the hangover will." 

Cordelia took one last look at Angel and stood to face the sword man. "And may I ask who you are to be drinking with my boss?" 

He chuckled again. "An old friend of his youth." 

"That's impossible, he-" she cut herself off from going further. 

"I know," he said. "I'm not a demon, but I'm not your average Joe either. I'm quite a bit older than he, but in a different way. You may call me Adam. Or Methos if you prefer," He extended one hand politely. "That being my given name. Though most people prefer Adam." 

"Cordelia," she replied, taking it. She was a little startled when he kissed it. "So how come *he's* passed out when you had more?" 

Adam laughed. "Let's just say what makes me older than Angel is what allows me to drink like a fish." 

"Oh," Cordelia said briefly, still confused as hell. 

Angel took that moment to return to the land of the living...or whatever.The voices had awoken him, and he went to sit up.He flopped back down with a groan. 

"Good morning," Cordelia said with false sweetness. 

Angel looked at her, bleary eyed."Not really," he muttered. His head was pounding, and it felt as if his stomach was trapped in a vice, which was twisting it in contortion-like, and what should have been physically impossible, positions. "Can you go talk somewhere else?" he croaked. "And let me die in peace." 

"You're already dead," Cordelia reminded him in her usual bright voice. 

"Shhhh," the sick vampire held one wavering finger to his lips. "Hell's starting to look good about now." 

Adam stood and went into the bathroom, returning with water and about a dozen aspirin. "Here. You can't overdose when you're already dead." 

Angel focused his eyes on his friend's face, grateful for the inherent darkness of his apartment. "Thanks. I'd forgotten this part." With that he practically inhaled the pills. They took effect quickly. With a moan, the vampire managed to get into a sitting position. "And you look bright as daisies in the morning." 

Adam just shrugged. "I told you, it takes an ungodly amount to get me drunk. It takes three solid *days* of drunk to give me a hangover of any kind. Though you have an impressive tolerance." 

Cordelia looked at the two men. "Would someone like to tell me what this little Irish drinking festival was all about?" 

"Women," Adam replied with a smirk.

"Oh no," Cordelia groaned."You mean you put up with broody Buffy boy?" 

"Put up with it?He *encouraged* it," Angel muttered as he finished downing the aspirin. 

"And it took me a lot of good Irish hospitality to even get him to talk," Adam replied with a chuckle. "He's been keeping that friendly Irish spirit locked up. He was much more open the last time we met." 

"When was this?" Cordelia asked. 

"Drinking in a pub," Adam replied. "There were some lovely ladies there as I recall." 

Angel could actually feel himself flush with embarrassment at Cordelia's wide eyed stare."I was 26 years old," he muttered."We all make mistakes." 

"But...Angel!" 

"It was the night...the night before I met Darla," Angel said finally.At the confused looks he received, he explained."The night before I became a vampire." 

That sentence was met with shocked silence. 

"Oh, Angel," Cordelia whispered. 

"If I'd known it was going to happen," Adam shook his head. "When I came too you were long gone. I headed in the other direction to keep anyone from associating the dead body with me and then back to you. I could have stopped you." 

Angel shook his head. "No. It wasn't something you could have stopped. And besides," he smiled a little. "I never would have met Buffy." 

Once again the apartment fell silent.Cordelia hadn't the slightest clue how to respond to that.Adam just looked at him for a moment."Well, I suppose that's one less thing I have to feel guilty about, then," he said after a moment. 

"I suppose so," Angel agreed.He was still smiling faintly."You know, I've never really thought about it that way before?I guess last night *was* good for something." 

"Besides a good drink," Adam chuckled. "Though I am hungry enough to eat a cow. I'm completely empty." 

"Well, good," Cordelia grinned, coming back to the moment at hand. "I've got donuts upstairs. That is, if Angel can *make* it upstairs?" She looked at him with amused reproach. 

Angel stood *very* slowly."You go on ahead," he said wearily."I'm going to take a shower...and then try and see if I can eat anything.I'll join you both in a few minutes." 

"Okay," Cordelia shrugged. "Care to join me?" she asked Adam. 

"I would be delighted," he replied grinning as he stood. "It's been a long time since I was in the company of such a lovely lady." 

Cordelia flashed him her best smile."So, you taught Angel how to drink.How come you couldn't teach him to be as charming as you are as well?" 

Adam chuckled. "Some people just aren't the brightest students," he said, loud enough for Angel to hear as they went up the stairs. "And I can't really take credit for the drinking. He was doing just fine on his own before *I* met him. It's an Irish thing I think." 

"Hey!" Angel called after them, only to hear their laughter as they disappeared. Slowly he made his way into the bathroom, leaving only the nightlight on so as not to bother his sensitive head. Stripping off his rumpled clothing, he stepped into the steaming water. 

As the hot liquid coursed down his body, Angel slowly felt the last vestiges of pain leave his system. That is, his stomach stopped twisting, but his head still pounded incessantly. Slowly his thoughts returned to the night before. *I can't believe I was that drunk! What's wrong with me lately? Was I really in such a state that it was so simple to get me completely soaked?* 

Angel had to concede that apparently he was.He sighed.Ever since they had managed to correctly translate the prophecy he'd stolen from Wolfram and Hart to discover that he was going to be human again someday, he'd been thinking about Buffy.It didn't help matters that he'd found this out six months to the day from the day that never happened. It had been hard from time to time to not call Buffy, or head back to Sunnydale for no reason than to see her.Now it was even worse. 

*Oh Buffy, why do I keep doing this to myself? What would you say if I called you?* Methos was right. He had always been too afraid that she would turn him down permanently. Or that he'd find she had moved on so far that she wasn't even his Buffy anymore. *His* Buffy. It surprised him that he still thought of her that way. He had to admit that he probably always would. 

He turned off the shower finally, exhausted and emotionally weary.Maybe...whenever this current crisis was over...But who was he kidding?There was always something more going on, something else to take care of.And how was he supposed to earn his humanity if he didn't fight? 

It suddenly occurred to Angel that he didn't know what he was fighting this time.He highly doubted that last night's drinking binge had been what the Powers That Be had in mind when they sent Cordelia that vision.Though you could never be sure... 

"Are you coming, slowpoke?" Cordelia's voice echoed down the stairs. 

"Yeah, I'm coming!" he managed to yell back without splitting his head in two. He toweled off and went into the bedroom to get some clothes. His mind wandered back to it's previous train of thought. Why *had* Cordelia had a vision of Methos? Did they just have a sense of humor, or was there something else? A thought struck him so clearly that he was amazed he hadn't thought of it before. *I was too besotted," he thought, a little disgusted with himself. What if the vision had not been about Methos, but the *other* Immortal? 

Quickly consuming his own breakfast, and managing not to have his stomach revolt, Angel was as ready as he was going to be to face his brighter-than-they-should-be friends waiting upstairs.It wasn't fair...All these years, and he was still the one of the two of them that ended up with a hangover. 

Taking the elevator to conserve energy in his dilapidated state, Angel arrived upstairs to find Methos and Cordelia sitting on the couch in the office, chatting happily over donuts and coffee. "Do I want to know what you're talking about?" he asked, fearing the worst. 

Cordelia and Methos looked at him, looked at each other again, and started laughing."Probably not," Methos said. 

Cordelia wouldn't leave it at that."The talking stick," she said with a smirk. 

Angel groaned."Cordelia!" 

"What?" she smiled innocently. "You were so *cute* as a big huggable teddy bear." 

The vampire sighed and shook his head. This was really too much for one morning. In fact, everything from running into Methos to this point was more than enough weird things and soul searching for even *his* lifetime, and it was just too much to wrap his fog-filled mind around. "You're weird, Cordelia," he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee, black. 

Cordelia couldn't help but laugh at that."Look who's talking! Compared to everyone else here, I'm quite normal." 

Angel took a sip of coffee and fought a grimace, then turned around to smile tolerantly at her."Which, when you think about it, makes you weird in comparison." 

"I'm from the Hellmouth, work for a Vampire, and I've carried evil demon babies. So I'd say I'm just as weird/normal or whatever as the rest of you!" Cordelia challenged, grinning. 

"She has a point," Methos grinned, enjoying the show. 

Angel grinned easily back."Yeah, I guess she does," he agreed."well, since you two seem to have settled in quite nicely, I guess it's time to get down to business." 

"Business?" Cordelia asked with a whine. 

Methos looked at Angel curiously."What did you have in mind?" 

"When I found you last night, it was because Cordelia had a vision," Angel tried to explain."That typically means some sort of trouble - someone who needs my help, some demon that needs to be fought - something." 

"And this vision showed me taking the other one's head," Methos nodded. "Which would explain why you were tracking me." 

"Exactly," Angel replied. "But somehow I don't think you were what they were focusing on, unless they just wanted me to loosen up a bit last night." 

"You think it might have been Gerard, the young upstart that tried to pick a fight with me." 

Angel nodded."That's the only thing that makes sense," he agreed."But you said he was just a nobody.So that doesn't help much." 

"Maybe he's trying to become somebody." 

The two immortals looked at Cordelia in surprise. 

"What?" she said, looking up at them both."That's why everyone else comes to L.A." 

Methos looked at Angel. "It makes sense," he said simply. "Cliché, but makes sense." 

Angel shook his head. "Sometimes I'm just amazed by people's motives. But why would he be stupid enough to pick a fight with *you?*" 

"Because I'm the oldest, and the strongest," Methos replied. "If he could take me it would save him thousands of years of work. He only needs one lucky blow." 

Still Angel looked thoughtful."Yes, but..." He paused, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to."In my experience," he said finally, "someone trying to take power fast still starts with the easier targets.If he was going to take you on, he had to be pretty sure of his chance of winning." 

"Which could just mean he's arrogant and stupid," Methos pointed out. 

"Or he could know something we don't," Angel added."Cordelia had a vision," he pointed out."That has yet to mean there's an easy answer." 

"Maybe he has help," Cordelia suggested. "Other new Immortals or something. Would he work with demons?" 

"He might," Methos nodded. "I doubt it's another Immortal though. This one won't live very long, and he's not the type to allow someone to have power over him. I'd go with the demon option. Something weak and easier to kill." 

"Demons," Angel agreed easily."With me it's always demons." 

"Not always!" Cordelia said helpfully."One time...I mean, there was that doctor who was sending pieces of himself after that girl he was stalking." 

"Cordelia," Angel said firmly. 

"What?I was just saying that it's not always demons." 

Angel and Methos just looked at each other."So, demons?" Methos asked. 

"That would be my guess," Angel replied blandly, ignoring Cordelia's indignant glare. "Which means there has to be a place in town where he can recruit these guys. Not to mention someplace for them to lay low, and meet." 

"Ugh," Cordelia said under her breath."Does that mean we're trolling for demons again?" 

Angel thought about it for a second. "There are...several places I know of that demons gather.I can't get to any of them right now because of...sunlight," Angel said, gesturing to the window. 

"But we can," Methos said, meaning himself and Cordelia. 

"Right," Angel agreed."I'll see what I can find out from the underground." 

"The underground?" 

"From...the things that live underground." 

"Oh," Methos nodded. "Then where should we start?" 

Cordelia sighed, sounding disgusted with the whole concept."Come on," she muttered."I've done this with him before.You want to see some demons?I can show you some demons.Really gross and disgusting ones too." 

"Cordelia!" 

"What?I'm going!" 

**Part Three**

"This is it," Cordelia whispered to Angel and Methos in their cramped hiding place behind the old building. She and the Immortal had searched the bars and demon hangouts of LA for three days before having the luck to run into this Gerard during one of his recruiting nights. It seemed he was using demons to kill new or less experienced Immortals, and making sure he was the closest Immortal so that he would get the quickening. A clever, if cowardly, plan. Methos had been able to leave the bar before Gerard could sense him, and Cordelia had tailed the younger Immortal back to his "lair," a rundown old building with sewer access. "So what's our plan?" she asked. 

"We're supposed to have a plan?" Methos asked amused. 

Angel ignored the joke."Is Gerard any match for you in a fair fight?" 

"I can take him," Methos said with certainty. 

Angel nodded."Then we'll just have to make it a fair fight," he said."I'll concentrate on the demons." 

Cordelia looked at him aghast."But...you don't even know how many demons there are!" 

"Have you ever been in a tavern brawl Cordelia?" Angel grinned at her. 

"Of course not!" She glared at him indignantly. 

The vampire's face took on a feral grin. "Then just trust me. In a brawl, ten on one can be a fair fight. Just make sure you're accurate with that crossbow. This will be a close quarters battle." 

As Angel stood, his face determined, Cordelia grabbed his arm urgently. "Just...don't get killed, all right?How are you supposed to 'shanshu' or whatever if you get killed?" She smiled slightly to soften her statement."Plus, you owe me my paycheck." 

"Don't worry," he smiled kindly. "I have no intention of dying." 

"Besides," Methos grinned. "He's already dead. They can't exactly do much to him." 

"Besides stake me," Angel replied glibly. "All right. On my mark, Cordelia and I will take the front door. Methos take the back." 

Cordelia held her crossbow tightly.The fact that she'd done this before didn't make her feel much better. "I'm ready," she whispered. 

Angel nodded, and the three of them began their approach. "Now!" he signaled them. Methos darted around the side of the building, and Angel kicked in the door, axe swinging, while Cordelia let loose with the crossbow. 

The room was full of demons, though mostly vampires. It was a stroke of luck for the invading force, since that meant that most of their foe would go *poof* if killed properly. Angel had a stake at his belt just in case, and now he was glad he had brought it. 

The assembled demons turned in surprise as soon as Angel entered.Their shock was only momentary, however, and soon they were faced with a furious crowd, all turning on them at once.From Angel's point of view, Gerard was no where to be seen.He wasn't Angel's concern though.He was more worried about the first of his opponents who would be more than happy to take him down.Not really looking at what exactly he was hitting, Angel just kept himself and his axe moving. 

At the other end of the building, Methos was stalking through an empty hallway following the sense he had of another Immortal. He was sure the young fool could feel *him* and that it would be only a matter of time before they came face to face. He came around a corner, and smiled. "Weren't expecting to see me again soon, were you?" 

Gerard held his sword in front of him, flanked by demons on either side."I never like to wait too long for a battle," he replied. 

The demons were practically drooling at the sight of the older Immortal.Or maybe that was just slime... 

"You know the rules.This is between you and me," Methos stated. 

"Yeah, well my friends aren't exactly covered by our rules." 

Methos shrugged. "So it'll be a little more of a workout. I've yet to meet anything that couldn't be killed with a good decapitation." He crouched in a fighting stance and faced his opponent. 

Gerard pushed his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes and motioned for the demons to encircle them both. If Methos did win, he might not get out of this alive. 

The older Immortal didn't let the other see his shudder. 

At the front of the building, Angel wasn't faring too well.Fortunately Cordelia had managed to find a safe place from which to fire her crossbow, but she couldn't fire too close to Angel for fear of hitting him as well.To say the least, it was getting messy. 

Angel was sincerely wishing he'd taken the time to find out how many demons Gerard had at his call before doing this.Sure, they were mostly weaker demons and vampires, but that didn't mean they couldn't overwhelm him.There were a number of dead demon bodies and a lot of dust around where Angel fought, but still they kept on coming. 

He hacked off a demon's leg, sending it crashing to the ground and tripping the two behind it. With a downward stroke he caught the other two in their heads. He thanked the Powers that Be that the axe had a large head. A sharp wooden crossbow bolt whizzed by his ear and staked a vampire coming at him from his right. *That was close,* he thought, spinning in the other direction. He hoped Methos was faring better. 

Methos had decided he *really* didn't like dealing with demons.All this slime and dust and supernatural strength...give him a normal Immortal any day.He was tired from fighting the demons, but uninjured.With the couple of demons he had killed and the commotion going on in the front of the building, most of the creepies had backed off. 

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Methos shifted his grip on his sword."It's down to you and me, Gerard," he said strongly. 

The younger Immortal's smile was cocky. "You might want to give up now, old man. No use in breaking a sweat before you die." 

Methos didn't answer, but instead took a testing swing, which was easily blocked. He swung again. Several times he made moves that were fast, but by no means his fastest, and the other Immortal blocked most of them without horribly over exerting himself. Without changing his expression one bit, Methos began to step up the pace slowly, so the other Immortal wouldn't notice how hard he was really being pressed. 

That wouldn't make up for the fact that he was already tiring, however.He tried not to show it, but the skirmish with the demons had winded him.This battle was going to be closer than he would have liked.

Gerard swung around him, feinting in and jumping back again, tiring himself out much more thoroughly than Methos could ever have done. If he kept that up, the fight wouldn't be much of a challenge, even if he *was* exhausted. 

Still Methos kept the fight going.The longer it went, it seemed, the better a chance he'd have at winning.With the adreniline, he was feeling better by the second, while Gerard was looking decidedly weary.*No wonder he stuck with the demons.I'm amazed he won anything like this.* 

His opening came. Gerard faltered half a step. It only took an eighth of a second, but Methos saw the opening and stabbed, running the young Immortal through at the shoulder. 

Gerard collapsed to the ground, groaning. "You haven't...won yet," he managed, breathing laborously. 

Methos stood over him, sword raised. "Give up, boy. You've made a very bad choice in opponents." 

The sword dropped. 

Angel stabbed again, ducked, and rolled to avoid a demon with a very nasty left hook. Cordelia had run out of crossbow bolts -and out of vampires to shoot them with- and was in among them now, stake in hand. 

He felt it coming before it hit, like the feeling before a storm.It hung heavy in the air, prickling along his skin.The demons he was fighting felt it to and faltered in their advance.Some of them backed off quickly, disappearing out the building.Others looked around in confusion as the lights began to flicker.Then true chaos began. 

If Angel hadn't known what hell was really like, he might have imagined it like what happened next. Lightning bolts coming from the ground and walls, crackling and sizzling in the air. The few weak light bulbs exploded, setting off the old cloth that covered what was left of the few pieces of furniture in the old warehouse. The flames reached upward, licking and eating at everything they could reach, bathing everything in a reddish glow that was punctuated by searing flashes of white light. 

The remaining demons forgot all about the battle they'd just been fighting and ducked for cover, every demon for itself.Angel spared a glance to see that Cordelia was still safe, cowering in the spot where she had hidden from the beginning.Angel was pretty much out in the open, but he dropped to the floor to avoid being hit by anything and kept an eye on the flames. 

Completely without warning or apparent cause, the lightning stopped as quickly as it had begun, and the room went nearly black, except for the ruddy glow of fire light. Angel uncovered his eyes in time to see a shape coming out of the fire, carrying a sword. Was it Methos...or Gerard? He heaved a sigh of relief as he caught sight of the elder Immortal's distinct facial features, even through the smoke. 

Seeing the victor of the battle, the remaining demons scattered, running for the exits.Beyond exhausted, Angel let them go. 

Cordelia emerged from her hiding place to join him."Does that mean we won?" she asked, looking at the destruction within the warehouse. 

"Yeah, we won," Methos replied, out of breath but smiling slightly. 

"Come on," Angel said after a moment."Let's get out of here before the whole building falls apart." 

Running quickly, the three demon hunters exited the building, and didn't stop moving until they were safely back at Angel Investigations, where they collapsed in exhausted heaps onto Angel's furniture. 

"What was that?" Angel finally asked Methos. 

The Immortal sighed. "A Quickening. Not a very strong one, but more than I expected from such an unskilled opponent." 

"If that was a weak one, I'm glad I don't work for you," Cordelia commented. "Demons are better any day." 

"Though they sure ran from that inferno," Angel chuckled. 

"That they did," Methos agreed. 

* * *

Methos awoke the next morning with the sun, quietly rising from Angel's couch.He was surprised to see Angel watching him, standing in the bedroom doorway. "Aren't vampires supposed to be nocturnal?" he asked. 

"I don't need much sleep," Angel replied, coming into the room."What about you?Why are you up so early?" 

"I should be going," the Immortal said. "I'm sure the police are still looking for the man who's been causing the sudden rash of beheadings. Even if I'm not the only Immortal in the city." 

"Good luck then," Angel stood and shook his hand. 

"Thanks," Methos smiled. "By the way, something I've been thinking about. What was that "shanshu" thing Cordelia mentioned last night. Right before the fight?" 

Angel's eyes widened."You have a good memory," he muttered. 

"Lot's of practice," Methos replied."And I think you're trying to avoid answering.It won't work." 

"It's part of a prophecy I found recently.My prophecy, I guess you could say.In Wesley's words, there is an 'entire passage dedicated to a vampire with a soul.' Not much chance of it being anyone else." 

"And what did this prophesy say?" 

"It said, that someday I'll be human again," the Vampire said slowly. 

Methos grinned. "And you're still in LA instead of running off to find your woman? That's more self restraint than I've got. Foolish too." 

Angel looked at him sharply."You know, I didn't tell you all of this for you to judge my actions," he said. 

"Consider it wisdom from your elders," the Immortal replied. "She has a right to know." 

Angel walked into the kitchen, talking at the same time."I know," he said slowly."I've almost called her every night. I just can't do it, though.I always stop.The one time I actually managed to dial I couldn't say a word when she picked up." 

Methos nodded, smiling. "You'd have to say something if you were face to face." 

Angel was silent for a moment."Yeah, I would," he said slowly. 

"So when are you leaving?" Methos asked. 

Angel couldn't help but laugh slightly at that."You win," he agreed."I don't know when, exactly, but I'll go." 

"You're not doing anything right now," the other man pointed out. 

"You're not going to give up until I'm heading for Sunnydale, are you?" Angel asked with a grin.Methos just looked at him pointedly.Angel raised his hands in surrender."Alright!I'll go.I just have a couple of minor things to do first, a couple of people to tell that I'm leaving, and I'll go."He stopped and laughed to himself."I can't believe I'm doing this." 

Methos laughed. "Give her a kiss for me," he said as he pulled on his coat and belted on his sword. 

Angel smiled."Methos?" 

"Yes?" 

"Thank you." 

_The End! For more on Angel's return to Sunnydale, read "Coming Home"_


End file.
